


Of Landlords and other Pests

by Profundity (TanTales)



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series
Genre: Gen, yeah its an animal crossing crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanTales/pseuds/Profundity
Summary: The raccoon wanted money.The raccoon was now my landlord. My landlord was a raccoon. And it wanted rent money.Better than the locker, at least.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	Of Landlords and other Pests

The raccoon wanted money.

At least, that's what made the most sense. Not that a raccoon expecting me to pay him (her? it? raccoon-self?) made a lot of sense. But, looking at its tiny eyes, arched eyebrow and extended paw, there was only one explanation that made sense. I was being extorted by a raccoon.

Let's go back to the start, mostly because there are not a lot of ways to explain a raccoon charging me without giving a bit of context. It all started this morning. No, wait, it all started the summer before high school started. No, maybe it all started with the car crash? Or perhaps with the day I was born? No, that's definitely too early.

Let's start with this morning; otherwise, the story would be too long and have too little to do with the money-expecting raccoon. It was the first day after Christmas break, and I was in a good mood. Not because of going back to school; I am not one of those psychos who love spending eight hours surrounded by hormones and questionable teaching methods. I used to be, for sure, but I had learned the hard way to get it out of my system. No, I was in a good mood because my used-to-be-best-friend-now-tormentor had given me the best Christmas present ever: ignoring my existence. 

Emma was everything that I once wished I were but now have come to hate in everyone. She was pretty in the way that got her looks, but not jealousy. Emma was popular enough to surround herself with acolytes and yet managed to keep all her bullying under the radar. And, most importantly, she had a way with words that let her get away with everything. I used to love when that meant getting extra cookies from her mum rather than having everyone assume I was lying for attention.

Today started like any other day: with rumors of someone being shot over the break, teenage pregnancies, and that so-and-so had been recruited at gunpoint. Life had never been easy in the bay, but even dad accepted that my generation probably had it the worst. It sucks, but that's life for you. We have it so bad that if Leviathan came, they probably would keep the city open because not much could get worse. 

I just wish I could leave. 

Anyways, going back to Emma. She was more than a bit of a bitch, and her friends were the horsewomen of the apocalypse. Of my personal apocalypse, I mean. If the actual apocalypse happened, they probably would be less than a worm in a sidewalk. Weird metaphor, I know, sue me.

So, Emma. She had been ignoring me for almost a month (yay!) until this morning when I realized she learned how to plan more than five minutes into the future. So, here is a little fun fact: cramped spaces? Not cool. Being locked into them? Even less cool. Being locked in a cramped space that has been filled with rotting blood? Ultra not cool. Alas, that was my fate, as she (probably one of her evil minions, actually, I can't see her lowering herself to actually push me herself) locked me in the one space I could still call mine in school. 

So, yeah. There I was, screaming my lungs out, hopeless and all that jazz. Chances that someone got me out? Pretty low. Snitches get stitches after all. See, the thing about going to a gang-ridden public school in the wrong part of town is that even when your suffering is not gang-related, everyone is too afraid to interfere in case it is, in fact, gang-related. 

That's when the raccoon appeared. It was wearing a tiny vest and was a bit on the fat side. Not that I know what a healthy weight for a raccoon is, but I imagine round is not the shape God was aiming for when it created them. Raccoon hands are creepy. They are small and human-like, but still animal enough to appear both in nightmares and cute collages. But at that moment, there was nothing I loved more than my raccoon savior and its creepy fingers. Because, regardless of their creepiness, fingers could open lockers.

Yes, I was saved by the raccoon that was now extorting me. Life is like that sometimes. 

When I was locked in, there was only something I could think of: I wanted to get out. I'd do anything to escape the locker and all it represented. Also, I thought about the stench. That is definitely a smell I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies. Mostly because I'd want to see their face when they smell it, and then I'd have to relive the feeling as well. 

The raccoon had looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw my freedom. I could almost taste the saltwater of a faraway island. Feel the sun kissing my skin, the wind brushing my hair, and the moon cradling me goodnight. I could get away, find a nook that was truly mine, and escape the hell that was my own skin. I could be free. 

I nodded. The raccoon nodded back. I accepted that I was going crazy, and the raccoon did as well. 

I followed the raccoon, not even giving a second thought that all of my classmates had apparently disappeared. Outside the doors of Winslow, there was a tent rolled up, waiting for me. The raccoon pointed at it, and I picked it up. It was heavy, yet I felt like I could carry twenty times what I had at the moment. 

Step by step, I followed the magical raccoon. He was like my personal white rabbit, only that without all the plot-relevant chit chat and more raccoon-like. Also, the creepy fingers thing. How could I forget about the creepy fingers? Why couldn't I get a cute bunny? Was opening a locker that difficult for a rabbit? Probably. Creepy fingers for the win!

The bay may not be the biggest of cities, but it is definitely too big to walk from one side to another. And yet today, I did just that. It took me ages, but it felt like less than a heartbeat. A slow heartbeat, but still.

The Boat Graveyard is everything that the name suggests. Old, dangerous, and filled with rotting corpses. Boat corpses mostly, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were more than a human body or two in there. Closer to the city, it was primarily giant pieces of useless metal bathed in gang tags and a healthy assortment of trash. Broken drug paraphernalia seemed to be the carpet of choice. But then, as one got further away from the buildings, it got weirder. Less chance of a druggie shanking me, and more chance of a ghost doing the job. 

Dry seaweed, abandoned boats, and broken glass welcomed me into my new neighborhood. The raccoon nodded at me and stopped. We were in one of the few clean spots. There was an old boat as the backdrop, with a large hole as a reminder of its fate. Out of the hole came out the ugliest dog I had ever seen and a hamster. My new neighbors, I guess. They also had tiny tents with them, which cemented my understanding of the situation: definitely a fever dream from the inside of my locker. 

Time to find somewhere to settle, then. It took me less than ten minutes to find a sweet spot to put my tent. There was a dead rat currently occupying my land, but I quickly evicted it. Bye-bye zombie rat, good day schizo girl!

Putting the tent up was alright. I had learned during summer camp, probably the only good thing that came out of that summer. And when I was done, and I turned around, there was the raccoon. 

The raccoon wanted money.

The raccoon was now my landlord. My landlord was a raccoon. And it wanted rent money. Or a mortgage. Kind of similar, if I am honest.

I looked in my pocket, I had thirteen dollars, a coupon to the local supermarket and my ID. I gave him everything. The raccoon didn't look particularly happy, but he left. 

I sat down and took a deep breath. I was free. Finally, after so many torturous months, I was free. I laughed into the void. Free.

I looked at the paper the raccoon—my landlord who happens to be a raccoon—had dropped before leaving. Now, where was I going to find five sticks to build a fishing rod?

I smiled. Present me had the best type of problems.


End file.
